


After Hours

by SegaBarrett



Category: Hill Street Blues
Genre: M/M, S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hill puts Renko in his place. Takes place mid-S1. Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hill Street and I make no money from this.
> 
> Warning: Slight dub-con.

Bobby Hill was about a minute away from just asking Furillo for a new partner Again.

He was really fucking tired of asking Furillo for a new partner.

Renko had been impossible recently. Running around acting like he didn’t give a shit about the job, about Hill, about any of it. Worse than J.D. LaRue because, Renko ought to be less screw up than him; _anybody_ ought to be less screwed up than LaRue.

It wasn’t a new thing for Hill and Renko to be at each other’s throats, but it had only gotten worse since the shooting, and it had flared up inexorably since Eddie Hoban had been released due to lack of evidence.

Hill was tired of Renko’s bullshit. He had decided he needed to teach him a lesson if their partnership was going to survive.  
He waited until they were in the locker room, on a late shift. No one would be around for awhile. He locked the door; the idea of Esterhaus stumbling on the scene was less than a positive one. 

“Renko, this has gone far enough,” Hill intoned. He didn’t wait for Renko’s response before he pounced, climbing over the bench and pinning him against the locker.

“Wha?” Renko exclaimed, looking at Hill with wide eyes. “Get off me!”

“No, I don’t think I will. You’ve been acting like a downright ass ever since Hoban got released. And guess what, Renko? It’s not my problem. If you keep pulling stunts like you did yesterday, with the hookers, you’re gonna find yourself without a job, but before that, you’re gonna find yourself without a partner.” He yanked on Renko’s collar, as Renko struggled and let out an offended “hmph”. Hill was stronger, though, not to mention he had the element of surprised in his favor; he pressed his lips against Renko’s, hard.

When he broke the kiss, Renko’s eyes were even wider than before.

“The hell are you doin’, Bobby Hill?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you want to fuck me,” Renko replied. He had stopped trying to push Hill off of him, but was still looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, you’re not that dumb, Renko. Seems like you might be right.”

“Uhhh… why?” was Renko’s next question.

“Someone needs to put you in your place. And it might as well be me, considering I’m the one who has to deal with your irritating ass.”

“And I’m supposed to just let you do this?” Renko retorted.

“It’s not like there’s nothing in it for you.” Hill rubbed his crotch against Renko’s, letting his partner feel his erection as he took note of his as well. So Renko didn’t seem to be as opposed to this as maybe he’d want Hill to believe.

There was a pause, and Renko seemed to be considering his options.

“Alright,” he said finally. “But I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

“Well, I like a challenge.”

“I’ve noticed,” Renko replied. He pressed against Hill’s arms, trying to throw him off, but he failed, and Hill crushed their lips together again. This time, he could clearly feel Renko’s excitement, too. Maybe this was what his partner was into. Struggling. Pretending to resist. It came with the territory of being a cop, after all. Thrill of the chase, of the pursuit.

Hill reached out and grabbed the button of Renko’s pants and undid them; Renko let him. He tried another good-faith effort to throw Hill back, though, but Hill was stronger, had the determination. Nothing was going to stop him.

He yanked at the zipper on the other man’s pants, and Renko let him pull them down, but not off. 

“We’re gonna need…” Renko murmured, panting, “something.”

“I dunno Renko,” Hill hissed in his ear, “You think you deserve it? You’ve been a real pain in my ass recently, maybe I ought to be a pain in yours and just spit-lube it…”

To Hill’s surprise as well as Renko’s, the other officer whispered out, “Yes…”

“What was that?”

“Hard, Bobby. I want you. Hurry up.” Renko leaned in and pressed his lips against Renko’s neck. He sucked hard, and Hill figured he was probably bruising him. 

Hill let out a growl, almost animalistic.

“If that’s what you want…”

“You think you can dominate me?” Renko hissed. “Really? Then show me.”

Hill’s kiss was crushing, brutal, every ion of frustration against Renko’s antics channeled into it.

He was biting his lip, hard, and the blue eyes staring into his own were a deep mix of pain and want.

Hill paused only long enough to lick two of his fingers and unbutton his own pants before pulling them down and letting Renko get a good look at his cock.

It was longer than it was thick, but it was imposing, standing at attention and braced with the same kind of forceful righteousness that Hill tended to embody during an argument or arrest.

And certainly, if Renko wanted to fall back on the old racial stereotypes, Hill was glad to show him that in his case, at least, they were true.

But he didn’t give Renko much time to dwell on that, or any of it, really, before he slipped the first finger inside him.   
Renko let out a grunt.

“No,” he murmured.

“Really?” Hill asked, then crooked his finger. Renko twitched. “I could stop.”

Renko looked conflicted, but he eventually amended, “No. Don’t stop.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“I know you do,” Renko growled, and Hill slipped the finger a little further. “Y’wanna pretend I’m a suspect? That you can slam me up against your car and fuck me while you frisk me?”

Hill laughed, the notion vibrating all the way through, to the finger that was making its way around the inside of Renko.

“Too public. Rather have you all to myself. Maybe a cell.” He chuckled.

“I’d like that,” Renko hissed, and he clenched around the finger before relaxing again. Hill quickly added a second, sliding it in, eager to get the show on the road before somebody else needed to use the locker room for less illicit purposes.

Renko acclimatized more quickly this time, seemingly as eager to get on to the main event as the man who was now his partner in more ways than one.

“Let’s do it, Bobby,” he grunted.

“All right, Renko. Well, you asked for it.” Hill flashed an impatient look as he removed his fingers, spit into his palm and began to, with some hesitation, apply it to his cock.

He held Renko a little more firmly against the locker as he lined himself up and pushed in.

He had to force it a bit, and Renko gave more than one yelp but he didn’t ask him to call the off thing off – maybe by now he wanted it as much as Hill did.

When he was all the way in, he paused, gripping Renko’s hips to keep himself in place as his fair-skinned partner adjusted.

“Bobby,” Renko murmured, “Wow.” He hissed out but, again, didn’t complain. It was probably as much Renko’s own pride. Hill watched as he closed his eyes tighter and slowly unclenched, then reclenched, before taking a deep breath and letting it out.  
Like it was stress relief, which Renko could really take advantage of way more often. The man was wound tighter than a bowstring.

Then Renko nodded; Hill could move, and he did, first a sort of slow pump before it became deep and angled thrusts designed to make Renko gasp and hiss Hill’s name.

It was far too short, but with both men as eyed up as they had been, on the edge and ready to snap, Hill figured he couldn’t have hoped for much better.

So he pulled back and thrust forward one last time, muttering Renko’s name as he came hard inside him.

He collapsed against the other man, sweat and heat pooling between them.

“Guess this means you’ll be less of a pain in the ass tomorrow,” Hill murmured.

“Speak for yourself, Bobby Hill.”


End file.
